


Back To Square One

by starkind



Series: All The WIPs In One Place [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Post-Iron Man 2, Post-Movie 1: Batman Begins (2005), Silly, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: The AI took his time scanning both of their vitals and came to a very specific diagnosis.“Your vitals currently mark you as a 22-year old, Sir, while Mister Wayne is at the biological level of a 17-year-old.”At that, young Tony slapped his thigh and tilted his head back, laughing.“Not even legal! Bruce Wayne is a minor! This is so great!”
Relationships: Pepper Potts & Bruce Wayne, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Bruce Wayne
Series: All The WIPs In One Place [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140476
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Back To Square One

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at a hand-waving magic / de-aging fic. 
> 
> Given its unfinished nature, I'd say it was not a very successful one.

It all started out on a perfectly normal Wednesday morning in Malibu. Tony Stark was more than fashionably late for his business appointment in New York. Bruce Wayne, his cherished boyfriend, was done working out and showering and now sat eating a leisure breakfast in the Mansion's kitchen. And Pepper Potts, newly appointed CEO extraordinaire, was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Tony, we need to go! The jet is waiting.”

When his voice came over the comm panel in the kitchen wall, it was irritatingly silky. “It's my jet, it'll wait. I don't know which watch to wear. Brucie-buns! You gotta help me out.” Wayne did not bother to look up from where he was skimming across the daily e-paper on a tablet PC.

“Bulgari.”

He flicked some breadcrumbs off his fingers and resumed swiping them across the StarkPad's surface. A grunt over the comm.

“Which Bulgari?”

“The expensive one.”

“No Bulgari is cheap, you ditz.”

“If I'm a ditz you probably shouldn't ask me.”

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Stop stalling and pick a watch, Tony.”

“Be nice or you're in for a spanking session.”

“Careful, there is a lady present.”

That prompted a deep chuckle over the comm, and, as if on cue, Bruce's lips also curled into a small smirk.

With a huge sigh, Pepper did not even bother to hide rolling her eyes. Ever since the two billionaires had started dating some time ago, she had been skeptical. Skeptical about the man that was Bruce Wayne to the public, and his influence on Tony who had only just gotten around to change his life several months before.

As it turned out, her fears thankfully remained unfounded. The real Bruce Wayne was a polite, rather introverted kind of person. He managed to ground Tony, and in return was prompted to loosen up on his too serious and morose attitude every once in a while. However, that created a whole new problem at hand. Sometimes, Pepper Potts actually wished Tony Stark's nefarious influence on Bruce was not _that_ severe.

“You are not supposed to encourage him.”

Bruce looked up again and focused on her pacing and clicking stilettos. His mouth quirked. “Allow me to respectfully disagree. It's called adaptive handling of eccentric personalities.” Pepper snatched her purse off the kitchen counter and threw him a final, rotten look. “Okay, you know what? _You_ put him on the plane in all of your adaptive handling glory. I don't have time to deal with teenagers in designer suits today.”

~~~

Once Tony skipped down the circular staircase, three watches in his hands, he glanced around the kitchen. His boyfriend gave a small shrug.  
  
“She left. Grab your chronographs and move. I need to be back in Gotham before noon.”

~~~

High up in the air, aboard Tony's Cessna, its owner had forgone putting on any kind of watch in favor of bringing his latest gadget along. At the sight of the blueish, shape-shifting element the size of a golf ball, Bruce cocked his head. “What's that?” Tony played around with it for a couple more seconds, forming circles and oblongs and whatnot. “A Tech-Ball. Nanoparticles and... some other stuff.”

After a brief moment, Bruce's curiosity eventually won out. “What other stuff?” Tony grinned, shark-like. “Classified. Sorry, babe.” He proceeded to throw it over with a rakish grin. “Since you're usually so good with my balls, you may at least hold it. Here. Catch.” All emotion- and motionless, Bruce let the small object whoosh past his head. It bounced off a wall panel, dropped to the floor, and rolled under one of the uninhabited seats.

Tony’s expression spoke of exasperation.

"Spoilsport."

"Maybe that's classified as well."

"Nope, that's common knowledge."

Upon the put-out vibe shining back at him, Tony nudged his shin with a sneakered toe.

"C'mon, don't be mopey. I'm just teasing you. Hey. Loserface."

Bruce's left eyebrow arched.

“Pepper said we're like teenagers in designer suits. Surely you can see who's at fault.”

Tony grinned at the mopey sound of Bruce's usually modulated voice and went to retrieve his gadget. “Pepper loves me, for starters. And you, well, to an extent. Hasn't gotten over that one time you bought all tickets for the Gotham Rogues game you and I watched all alone at the stadium. Hence you, too, qualify for the 'Eccentric Billionaire manchild' badge in her book.” Bruce watched him contort to lunge underneath the seat.

“Hm.”

Tony threw him an amused glance while his outstretched arm kept on fishing.

"'sides, you're the fella who rolled around in a hotel pool fully clothed after buying it.”

Disapproval shone back at him. “That was one time, and I should’ve never told you.” A pinging sound over the board system interrupted them. “Mister Stark, Mister Wayne, we are approaching some unforeseen turbulence upon landing in New York. Please fasten your seat belts.” The pilot's voice echoed through the cabin just as the sign lit up.

With a triumphant "Aha!", Tony grabbed his glowing device and got up to do as they were told, right before the first few strikes of lightning illuminated the posh interior. “They didn't announce any thunderstorms in the area.” The cabin plunged into darkness just as the Cessna gave a violent lurch and descended several hundred feet at once. Clawing their hands into the armrests, Tony's tech-ball dropped to the floor again.

That time, he paid it no mind.

"Fuck."

Bruce watched his tense face as another bolt of lightning struck; brighter than any previous one. For a moment, everything faded into white static. When Bruce took his hand away from where it had protected his eyesight, his first glimpse went to Tony. Stark was still sitting across from him, also shielding his face behind both palms. “That was no regular atmospheric electricity.” At his lover's voice, Tony also lowered his hands.

Bruce blinked twice and stared at him like he had seen a ghost.  
  
“What...?”  
  
The expression that greeted him morphed into one of sheer horror and disbelief.  
  
“Oh. Oh, geez, uh... Bruce...?”

Another set of cracking lightning illuminated their faces; Bruce mimicking his lover's incredulity.  
  
“Tony...?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You look...”

“You, too.”

“Something’s happened and now...”

Tony held up an arm to display a suit jacket two sizes too big.

“... and now we're looking like two fresh-faced kids straight outta high-school!”

Bruce also inspected his own outfit, equally loose, and frowned deeply. “How old do you think we are?” Tony risked a critical glimpse into the Cessna's windowpane and bared his teeth. “No braces means older than 20. I think I wore my hair like this when I was around 21.” He poked at his curly mop and eyed the medium-length hair of Bruce Wayne's younger image. A snorted giggle escaped him.

“But you... a curtain haircut, B? Seriously?”

Bruce frowned at him; an eerie lot like his elder self. “Shut up.” He ran a hand through long, floppy bangs and looked around. “We have to find out how to reverse whatever caused this.” Tony ran a palm over his smooth, non-bearded cheeks. “Agreed. Until we do, however, we should stay out of the spotlight.”

~~~

They waited in the private area of the jet until the pilots had left the cabin. Tony then called a cab to take them from the airfield to the old family mansion of the Starks on Fifth Avenue. The cab driver gave them a couple of rather peculiar looks upon seeing them in their billowy getups but took the generous tip without complaint. The townhouse was uninhabited, and Tony connected with Jarvis via his phone.

The AI took his time scanning both of their vitals and came to a very specific diagnosis. “Your vitals currently mark you as a 22-year old, Sir, while Mister Wayne is at the biological level of a 17-year-old.” At that, young Tony slapped his thigh and tilted his head back, laughing. “Not even legal! Bruce Wayne is a minor! This is so great!” Bruce's mouth wormed into a petulant thin line.

“Find a way to fix this - I need to be back in Gotham. Today.”

Tony hummed. “Your voice is basically the same, so your butler won't suspect a thing. Call him and stall. We need to find out how to reverse this. Together.” Bruce looked not the slightest bit pleased. Tony pressed on. “For real, what good would it do in this situation? You're gonna wear hockey pads under your suits?” Another long, rotten stare was cast his way, but eventually, Bruce complied and went to make a phone call.

When he came back, Tony sat on the large dining table in the middle of the room, legs dangling in mid-air, and pulled at the loose waistband of his dress pants. When Bruce nodded at his questioning glance, Tony joined in. "Good, one problem less. Next up - wardrobe issues. I'm not running around like this.” Bruce knew him well enough to understand the hidden message. “Your first instinct is to go shopping?”

Fishing inside too-big pants, Tony twirled a car key fob around an index finger.

“Yep. And I'll drive. Obviously. Good thing I've stored a few rides over here.”

Bruce Wayne's eyes narrowed in silent vexation.

Ten minutes later, the silver Porsche Boxter sped through the streets of New York, headed for Fifth Avenue. Tony ignored several red lights and most complaints from the passenger seat until he had dragged Bruce into Niketown. Half an hour and an age-appropriate wardrobe later, they stashed their too-big clothes into the small trunk.

“Now what?”

With both of his fists stuffed into the front pouch of his black hooded sweater, Bruce Wayne looked exactly like a sullen, lanky teenager. Tony beamed at him, dressed in a bright-blue hooded jacket and some cuffed light gray jogger pants. “You're gonna love this.” From where Bruce followed the direction of Tony's pointed finger, his face turned even more morose.  
  
“No.”


End file.
